


The Gang Has An Orgy

by macpennis



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: ANALLINGUS, Anal Fisting, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Boating Without Life Jackets, Body Shaming, Bondage, Catholic Guilt, Dick Fruit, Dominatrix!Dee, Fat Shaming, Feeding, Food, Food Kink, Graphic Depictions of Cheese, Ham Spanking, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Physical Abuse, Pig Puns, feline voyeursim, gendered slurs, grey-asexual charlie, sex work mentions, too much lube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:46:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macpennis/pseuds/macpennis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A groundbreaking OT5 fic that explores explores the complex sexual dynamics between each member of The Gang while rapidly devolving into gruesome depravity and finishing with a massive orgy in a garbage truck. </p><p>Enjoy~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mac and Dennnis

“I don’t know, Dennis, are you sure this isn’t gay?”

Dennis furrowed his brow and even in the dim light of Paddy’s Y2K bunker, Mac could tell he was getting frustrated. Dennis had caught him off-guard this morning, ushering him down the stairs to the dank basement for another one of his ridiculous “survival drills”. Although, this time the task didn’t involve stacking cans or target practice. This time Mac had been asked to do something much more… intimate.

“Gay? There’s nothing gay about it Mac!”, Dennis responded, exasperated, “In the event where we find ourselves cut off from civilization in a time of crisis, and I, for whatever reason, can’t persuade a few busty young women to join us in time, we have to be ready to tend to each others’ erotic needs.”

Mac was unconvinced, and frankly, confused. He had to get out of this, get out of here but something inside him was begging for an excuse, praying for another well-constructed rationalization to plunge into temptation, just this once.

“Okay, but this isn’t the apocalypse yet, dude. Why are we doing this now?”

Dennis gripped Mac’s arms and his eyes got that intense look as they bore into him.

“Preparedness, Mac. We have to practice now so that when the time comes, we know how to deeply satisfy one another. Dammit, we’ll never survive a nuclear holocaust if we can’t even manage to get each other off!” He leaned in closer, and his voice became breathy. Mac could feel his heart pounding and his guts churning. It made him sick how bad he wanted this. It was almost more than he could handle.

“But you and me, Mac, we’re going to do more than just survive. We’re going to thrive. We’re going to emerge from the ashes and raise humanity into a new golden era! We’re going to be gods, Mac. Heroes.” Dennis snaked his fingertips along Mac’s neck and brought his lips just barely against his ear, which Mac could feel turning red already. With a sly smile, he whispered, “You want to be a hero, don’t you?”

“H-hell yeah, bro.” Mac couldn’t find the air to push the words out. His hands, clammy and totally not trembling, meandered blindly until they came to perch on Dennis’ slender hips. Dennis, in reply, knitted his digits through his blood brother’s pristinely slicked hair, clenching them into fists as he pulled him into a kiss. Mac pressed into the hot mess of lips and tongues. He reached down clutched Dennis' ass for dear life. Mac felt like he was falling and flying at the same time. Hips bucked, shirts unbuttoned, Dennis gasped for air. Mac, forgetting his own strength, shoved the two of them against one of the shelves, knocking a pickle jar onto the floor.

The pair followed suit. Mac greedily sucked at Dennis' neck as they crumpled together onto the concrete floors.

"Mac wait-- I brought something for this."

Mac watched him quickly peel his jeans off and grab an enormous bottle from the bottom shelf. He couldn't help but ogle the man's amazing thighs. What he wouldn't give to get his face in between them…

"This is a five year supply of lube, baby boy. Would you like to do the honors?"

Mac prayed that God couldn't see him slathering lubricant onto his best friend's asshole. He prayed that in the dark subterranean cellar, the Lord couldn't see how rock fucking hard he was when he entered him. He hoped that Jesus and all the angels couldn't see the expression on Dennis' face or hear the moan that bubbled past his lips and get jealous of how much they looked and felt like heaven. He tossed the bottle begind him without even bothering to unscrew it.

Mac eagerly pushed himself deeper into the slick baking heat of Dennis' body. He paused and shut his eyes, soaking in the sensation as if this really were the end of the world, and this might truly be the last time he'd find himself with his blood brother tight and hot around his cock.

Dennis interrupted with an impatient whimper, his hips thrust up from the floor practically begging Mac to destroy him. Mac flashed a big gay smile. He pulled back and slammed straight into him with an audible smack, knocking a loud moan out of Dennis.

"Atta boy, Mac." Dennis pulled him down for a sloppy kiss, his voice a murmur and his whole body rocking from the slow and steady pounding. "Bang me like the sky is falling!"

The encouragement did not go unnoticed. Mac quickened the pace of his plowing. Lightheaded, he buried his face into Dennis' chest his and peppered his nipples with gentle little kisses. Dennis had the sweetest pecs. The salty brine of his glass hard nips combined with the slimy oozing squelch of penetration was driving Mac wild. He grunted as he felt the viscous goo dribble and bubble out of Dennis' sweet anus. The puckered orifice was utterly defenseless against the vigorous onslaught of cock. Mac felt in that moment that God had made this hole just for him to fill. On the other hand, maybe Dennis' aching cries of "Ohhhh God,  Mac, you're such a badass." Was the siren song of temptation, and he was going to be dragged down to hell. Mac didn't have the vocabulary to describe these feelings, but if Dennis helped him, he would call it irresistibly depraved.

"Ohh fuck, Dennis, I'm really close" Dennis held tight to Macs back like it was all he could do to keep his body from breaking to pieces. And frankly, judging by the way Dennis shook like a leaf every time Mac's eager throbbing bird pierced his slender form, he wouldn't be surprised if he did.

Mac was spilling over the edge. Biting the other man's beautiful lips, Dennis murmured into his open mouth.

"Give it to me, baby boy, I need it."

That did it. Mac came like geyser, hot and fast and arguably one of our nations finest natural treasures. It was divine ecstasy, the likes of which he had only dreamt of. This was immediately followed by Dennis, who filled the gap between them with a fresh coat of his very own sticky dude-sludge and dragging his nails down the length of Mac's back.

When the two of them were through panting and sweating, they lay there for a while. Legs entwined, Mac and Dennis were wrapped in each other on the unforgiving concrete. Dennis was the first to break their cuddled silence.

"So how would you rate this drill?" Mac rolled over to face him.

"Hmmm... It was okay, I guess..."

Dennis sounded wounded. "Just 'okay'?!"

"Shit, no dude it was great it's just…" Mac took a deep breath, "I think we need more practice. Y'know... to make sure we're doing it right when-- if the time comes."

Dennis raised his eyebrows and met Mac's gaze, understanding.

"Ohhh well, obviously. Practice makes perfect, bro."

"Yeah, I mean we can't just leave it to chance, can we? This is survival we're talking about!"

"Oh god, no. That would be downright irresponsible! We should have another drill next week... or sooner..."

"The sooner the better, bro."

Mac heaved a contented sigh and nuzzled into the crook of Dennis' neck. He couldn't wait for the apocalypse.

    

 

 


	2. Dennis and Frank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis shifted in his seat, relaxed and comforted by the tender physical touch. He pondered Frank's proposal. On the plus side, they might finally make enough money to buy back the cocaine and avoid a brutal whacking on Friday. On the downside, elderly asscrack.
> 
> \-----  
> Chapter 2 takes place during and/or in between The Gang Gets Whacked: Part 1 & 2
> 
> In chapter two, big warnings for Incest, Physical Abuse, and Eating Ass.
> 
> Also, I'm so fucking sorry.

Dennis stepped out of the shower and began drying himself off in the toasty fog of his bathroom. While Mac was off playing sycophant to a bunch of mafia cretins, he'd had the apartment to himself, and frankly, he needed it. All this business with the drugs and the money and his dad pushing him around to be a whor- No. Dennis corrected himself. A "handsome companion". It was the kind of work that drained the life out of a man, but hey, it was nothing a nice, cozy shower couldn't fix.

He was still toweling off his hair when he reentered his darkened apartment.

"Hello, Dennis." A voice rang out from the shadows. A light snapped on and revealed Frank, seated in an armchair with his stubby fingers curled around a bedazzled goblet.

"WHOA! Jesus, Frank!! What the hell?!" Dennis yelped, frantically covering himself with the towel, "What?! How did you get in here?!?"

"Dennis, I'm here because I have some great ideas to spice up your services and really scrape in the cash from your clients!" Frank beamed and took a swig from his ostentatiously decorated "Pimp Chalice". His eyes glittered behind his thick glasses.

"And this couldn't wait until morning?" Dennis yelled, extremely irritated by his sudden lack of privacy.

"Oh no way José! We gotta lot of work to do before we send you back out there. We're gonna practice all night if we have to!"

"…Practice?" Dennis groaned and dragged his hand along his face, pinching where his bony nose met his eyebrows. "What the hell are you talking about Frank?"

Frank set down his chalice on the end table and leaned forward in his seat.

"I'm talking about anallingus." He said, splaying his hands out in front of him for dramatic effect.

"What?!"

"Anallingus. You know, rim jobs, asslicking, salad tossing, the Philadelphia chocolate box! Call it what you want, but it's just the thing reel in the old rich broads looking for a little excitement!"

"I know what it is!" Dennis snapped angrily, "Jesus Christ, Frank! I said no assplay!"

Frank frowned then stood up and wagged a sausage-esque finger in Dennis' direction.

"Don't you talk like that to your pimp !" He warned, patience wearing thin.

"No! No! No, I am not putting my lips anyway near the assholes of these old hags!" Dennis raged on, gesticulating madly, "And I've had about enough of this gigalo crap, too, Fra-" Smack! Dennis was cut off by a ruthless backhand to the face.

The room was quiet and Dennis lifted trembling fingertips to his cheek. His skin felt raw to the touch, and after the shock of the hit, Dennis felt similarly vulnerable.

"…ow god, that really stings." He said softly, rubbing his face gingerly.

"There, there, baby. You know I don't want to hurt you." Frank cooed, gently stroking Dennis' arms from behind, "Please don't make me hurt you like that."

"It… it's okay. I'm sorry, I won't." Dennis couldn't help but feel a little guilty, but mostly he just didn't feel like getting hit again.

Frank guided him over to the couch and sat him down. He began massaging Dennis' shoulders as he spoke.

"I really think I'm onto something with this asshole eating idea! The lonely old ladies will be lining up out the door and we'll charge top dollar for it!"

Dennis shifted in his seat, relaxed and comforted by the tender physical touch. He pondered Frank's proposal. On the plus side, they might finally make enough money to buy back the cocaine and avoid a brutal whacking on Friday. On the downside, elderly asscrack. But then again, surely his continued survival was worth a few tongue dips into brown town… Now that he thought about it, it seemed almost noble what he was doing: Making the ultimate sacrifice to beat the mafia at their own game. This could even be fun, a test of his limits. How far would Dennis Reynolds go to save his skin? And hey, if he spared the lives of the gang in the process, that was good, too.

"Alright, Frank, I'm on board!" He said, patting his fathers hand where it lingered caressing his shoulder, "Show me what you know!"

Frank cracked his knuckles and sat on the coffee table across from Dennis.

"Okay, first off, show me what you would do with your mouth, Dennis." His face was stoic and focused, like he was recalling what he had memorized earlier that evening.

"Oh uh, I dunno… maybe something like this? " Dennis did the first thing that to mind, swirling his tongue around in wide circles outside his lips.

"No no no no!" Frank barked, shaking his head furiously, "You're doing it all wrong! You gotta work your way up to the swirling! Why don't you start with some basic up and down motions?"

Dennis was losing interest fast. He rolled his eyes and lazily flapped his tongue like some kind of bored lizard.

"C'mon!" Frank clapped his hands onto Dennis' knees and locked eyes with him, "Put some feeling into it! Think about it, you're gonna be giving these ancient chicks the warm, wet, euphoric ride of their life! You're giving them the experience they can't get from any other whore!"

Franks words still ringing in his ears, Dennis felt himself growing hard beneath his towel. A stirring thought occurred to him, eyes still locked with his father. How far would he go…? Time to find out.

"Maybe it would be better if you just showed me." The words slipped out before he could stop them.

"That's what I'm trying to do!"

He paused.

"No, Frank, I mean really show me." Dennis unfolded the towel revealing his fully erect penis to his dad. Voice a whisper, he continued, "Teach me so that I may learn."

Frank was sat there with his mouth slightly agape, processing. The minutes felt like hours.

"Dennis, are you sure want this? I'm your father."

"In name only." Dennis replied, "Nobody has to know. It's just a little hands-on lesson between a pimp… and his bitch."

Frank looked kneeled down on the floor, nodded, and shrugged.

“Alright.” He said simply, gesturing towards himself with both hands, “Scooch forward.” Dennis took a deep breath and obeyed. For optimal anal positioning, he leaned back into the couch so the orifice faced his father. His hair was still wet and sent little streams rolling down his statuesque face.

Frank, with surprising firmness, gripped the underside of Dennis’ thighs, one in each of his brätwurst-looking hands.

“Now, the first thing you wanna do is all mushy and romantic. Chicks go nuts for that crap.” His father then began peppering little flowery kisses down from Dennis’ taint. When he reached his hole, he gently spread the young man’s ass cheeks apart with this thumbs. Frank peered into the crack and gave a shit-eating grin.

“You laser? Oh this is gonna be great for you as a whore!” He said excitedly.

“No, not a whore! A Handsome Companion.” Dennis corrected. The distinction meant everything.

Frank rolled his eyes and continued sprinkling pecks. His puckered lips brushed Dennis’ pink petunia and a youthful flush rose to his cheeks. Dennis found the kisses to be ticklish, but ultimately nothing to cry out about. Hopefully, he thought, the old ladies would enjoy it more than he did. Gross.

“Now that you got her warmed up, you wanna flatten your tongue out like this: Ahhh!” Frank demonstrated, sticking his whole tongue out so his son could see it, “Then, you do a little something like this!”

Frank dragged his whole tongue through Dennis’ sin valley in one smooth bottom-to-top movement. He moved it with the same grace and confidence as would to an ice cream popsicle. Dennis inhaled sharply, the towel clenched in his fists. The sensation was an enigma to even him. His father’s tongue felt slimy and alien, but carried just the right amount of moist heat to send a shiver down his spine. Frank did a few more of those and Dennis could hear himself humming with sick pleasure.

“The next thing you’re gonna be doing is fast little licks around the outside of the butthole! Up and down, left to right, diagonal, whatever! Have fun with it!”

And then Frank did just that, letting his mouth snake dart around playfully. It danced with a mind of it’s own, titillating the thousands of sensitive nerve endings in his son’s sphincter. They each shot out warm sparks that echoed all throughout Dennis’ body. It was a rush, Dennis bit his lip and failed to hold back a guttural moan and an, “Oh GOD, Frank…”

Frank’s eyes narrowed and he stopped abruptly.

“Dennis are you paying attention?”

“What? Yeah of course. Keep going! Keep going!”

“This part’s a little tricky. So what you wanna try to do is make your tongue flat like before, and just sorta teeeease it in. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, fine, just show me already!” Dennis was squeezing the towel in his palms impatiently. He was also trying to hide how heavily he was breathing. This was all business, nothing more.

Slick and muscular, Frank’s tongue pressed tight against his anus. Dennis suppressed a whimper and his eyes fluttered shut. Frank would just barely slide it in before cruelly whipping it back out. Dennis was in heaven. He moistened his hand with saliva, snuck it down between his legs, and began to stroke himself in rhythm with his father’s feather-light tongue flicks. An hour ago he’d have never expected to be pleasuring himself while the man who raised him from a baby ate him out in his living room. And he'd never have dreamed his father would make it feel so good. Fuck. Somehow remembering that Frank was his dad triggered the sick, twisted part of his brain that made him rub his dick even harder, smearing his spit-polished shaft with the little droplets of precum that pulsed from his throbbing cock.

“And now’s the part where you start the swirling!” Frank said without looking up.

“Fuck… Frank...” Dennis murmured behind closed eyes.

“Dennis?”

Dennis palmed himself faster.

“Dennis!”

His heart was pounding. Dennis was getting close.

“Dennis!!”

Frank raised his hand and smacked Dennis hard on the other side of his face.

Dennis’ eyes flew open as his hands fled from his genitals to cradle his wounded cheek.

“Ow! Ahgghh! Goddammit, Frank! What the hell was that for?!” He demanded.

Frank, standing over his child, crossed his arms angrily.

"You weren't listening to me!"

"So you hit me?!" Dennis exclaimed.

"Dennis, if you're not ready to take my lessons seriously, you can figure it out for yourself!" Frank pivoted and started in the direction of the door.

"What, you're just going to leave me like this?!" Dennis whined, his voice rife with desperation. He looked back and forth between his dad and his stiff, wet boner.

"Maybe I will." He replied without turning around.

"You can't!"

"Watch me."

Dennis panicked. He fell down off the couch and onto all fours.

"Wait, please don't leave!" He pleaded, "I'll do anything! I'm begging you! Please just don't leave without finishing me off!"

Dennis tried not to think about how pathetic he looked, begging for sex from his own father. How far would he go? The thought bounced around his head again, for a moment.

Frank turned around partially. He didn't say a word. Then Dennis said something he'd sworn decades ago he'd never say to Frank again.

"Dad…" His throat caught, "Daddy, please, I need you."

Seconds later he was back on the couch, nearly bellowing while Frank furiously tongue-fucked his asshole. Their collective sweat and spit was pooling on the couch coushions. Dennis had his hands atop Frank's bald head pushing his writhing mouth worm deeper into his hungry colon.

When Dennis came that night, he almost smothered his father to death between his ass cheeks.

And then they sat there in the dark. Both of them still gasping for breath. They exchanged oaths of secrecy and awkward goodbyes. Frank then waddled out the door, making no small effort to hide his own erection. And then it was just Dennis, left alone with the reality of what he'd just done.

How far would he go? Dennis wasn't sure if he could answer that anymore. What he did know is that given another opportunity like this, he would go so much farther.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU'RE READING THIS, ITS TIME TO GO TO CHURCH
> 
> Congratulations, you made it through. You probably feel a little nauseous by now. I'd like to tell you that the worst of this epic is behind us, but I love you too much to lie to you like that. 
> 
> Fortunately if your spirit isn't broken, you can look forward to another exciting installment of The Worst, Most Disgusting and Hated IASIP Fic in the history of the fandom coming soon. 
> 
> Stay tuned.


	3. Dee and Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3: Dee and Charlie
> 
> Warnings for food, food play, sploshing, and excessive use of cheese.
> 
> This chapter is really disgusting, you're gonna love it or your dignity back guaranteed!*
> 
> *Offer not valid in the US or Canada or any other self-respecting nation.

It was late evening in the back office, Dee was grimacing into her pocket mirror to check her teeth for unsightly food scraps. It struck her as unnecessary, seeing as her target for night probably didn't even know what flossing was. She supposed it couldn’t possibly hurt. There were footsteps coming up from the basement, accompanied with a cheery but undoubtedly original whistled tune.   
“Shit!” She muttered, suddenly out of time. Dee quickly adjusted her lacy garments, checked her pits for stink, and then haphazardly scrambled onto the desk to pose. She propped herself up on her side and her other arm dangled lazily off the front off the desk. She was going for a “sexy but sophisticated” sorta look. There was nothing, in her mind, “trashy” about it.   
The whistling got louder and the doorknob jiggled. A stapler dug painfully into her ribcage, but Sweet Dee smiled brightly through the pain. Atta girl.  
The door swung open and in came Charlie.  
“Huh whoa whoahhhh!” Startled and confused, his rat-bashing stick clattered noisily to the floor, “Whoa shit Dee! What is this? Where are all your clothes?”   
Charlie gestured stiffly around the room with blood-soaked hands, just now noticing the scented candles and the deep vermillion of Dee’s lipstick. His knit brow and wide eyes indicated a mix of bewilderment and alarm.  
“Oh…. hello, Charlie…Ehhrmhh.” said Dee, trying her best at a seductive voice. Unfortunately, the especially potent candles made it difficult in such a poorly ventilated space and her words were swallowed by a small fit of coughing.   
Straining, she continued, “Welcome to my chamber…”  
“Uhh yeahh, well your “chamber” kinda looks like the back office, though...”   
Dee suppressed an eyeroll and trailed a poorly-painted fingernail along the wooden desk.   
“Come on, Ratslayer, don’t act like you don’t wanna piece of this.” As she said this, she indulgently squeezed one of her exceedingly youthful tits and hummed off key, “Hmm?”  
Charlie paused and squinted, “Wait a second, Dee, is this because Dennis called you a ‘completely unfuckable dried-up hagskank’?”  
“What?! No that is not what this is about!!” She snapped back, in her familiar shrillness.   
“Okay ‘cause trying to bang me isn’t going to make you any younger.”  
Dee snorted. “Please, Charlie. Does this look “old” to you?” Smirking, she gracefully raised a long, elegant leg into the air and pretended not to notice all the office supplied she’d knocked over in the process.  
“Uh, Dee… I uh… Not that you don’t look like one of those magazine ladies, but I kinda promised Frank I’d play nightcrawlers.” Charlie avoided eye contact and mimed that he was checking a watch, not that he had ever owned one, “Like, now.”  
“Godammit, Charlie, are you shitting me?”  
“Sorry, Dee! I really gotta go.” He called as he backed out of the office door.  
Dee’s eyes were daggers, but her mouth betrayed nothing but a thin lipped smile. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot. Her chest burned hot as she extracted “Plan C” from the desk drawer.  
“Oh, well!!” She chimed, much louder than necessary, back to the darkened bar, “I guess I’m gonna have to eat all this cheese by myself!”   
All was quiet for a few spare moments, before a hesitant voice called back from the darkness, “Did you say cheese?”  
“Maybe.” She gloated.  
And then Charlie was back at the doorway in record speed. His face was sweaty. He looked like he’d been panting. Dee was thankful she couldn’t smell him over the malodorous candles.  
“...Cheese?” He repeated expectantly.   
“Oh this?” Dee replied with phony nonchalance. She held up a narrow, white can, which in bright orange letters spelled the words “Cheddar Spritz”. This got Charlie’s attention. And although he could not read the text, the logo (a flamboyant-looking cheese wedge with dark sunglasses riding a surfboard on what one could only be described as an ocean of molten cheddar) was unmistakable.   
“You’ve just been working so hard, Charlie. I thought you might be… hungry.” Dee then tore the cap off with her teeth and spat it, successfully, into the wastebasket.   
“You want some?”   
“Mmhmm”   
“Oh yeah?” She taunted.  
“Yes, Dee, I would really like some cheese.” Charlie’s eyes were wide, feral. He watched in confused torment as Dee Reynolds sprayed a tantalizing amount of the liquid orange cheddar product between her breasts.  
“Then come and get it.” She replied with a tone nothing short of sultry. She puffed out her chest and pushed her bosoms together, smearing the thick golden dairy derivative deeper into the crevices of her pale cleavage.  
Faster than Dee could wink suggestively, Charlie was on his knees with his face nestled deep between her boobs. The way he lapped up the cheddar one could swear the grimy little man was starving.  
Once Charlie licked her clean, he stared up at her from from the floor, he donned pitiful, begging eyes and a monstrous erection. No words needed be spoken, Sweet Dee snapped off her bra and applied a generous helping of cheese goop to each breast, eclipsing her nipples like two vermillion moons.  
“Eat up.” She whispered, licking her lips with devious intent.  
“What?”   
“I said ‘Eat up’!”   
“I couldn’t hear you! Stop whispering all the time, Dee! God! How am I suppo--”  
Dee shut him up by jamming her freshly condimented tit into his gaping maw. Charlie’s eyes fluttered shut as he began to softly suckle her teat. Charlie’s warm, moist tongue was creating a similar climate inside Sweet Dee’s underpants. The way it tickled as it greedily trawled every pore and cranny, leaving no spare dairy crumb behind left her gasping for breath. Dee ran her bony fingers through Charlie’s hair, but immediately realized what a mistake that was and subtly wiped off the grease onto the back of his shirt. He probably wouldn’t notice.  
Charlie pulled back suddenly, “Holy shit, Dee, this is some tasty cheese. I’m really close.”  
Dee scowled, at both him and the droplets of Cheddar Spritz that were caught in his beard.  
“Like hell you are. I got much more where this came from.”   
Charlie didn’t reply, but his ochre-stained grin said everything that words couldn’t.   
Dee then slid her panties down to her ankles and spread her legs wide, eye level with her dirty cheese-lover.  
“Can I do it?” Charlie asked hesitantly.  
“Knock yourself out, kid.” Dee tossed him the can and he wasted no time before sliding it inside her softly pulsating (and super wet) vagina.   
PSSSSHHHHHhhhHHHHHtt!   
And with rushed release of aerosol, Charlie dove right in, ravenously gobbling up the cheese that gurgled silently out Dee Reynold’s pussy.Wrapped tightly around his head, Dee’s thighs muffled the sound of her loud and, no doubt, shrill moaning. For that, Charlie was thankful. The last think he needed was some high-pitched squawking to kill his raging cheese boner. It hardly took him long to spunk all over himself.   
Finally, as Charlie was slurping up the last of his cheddary feast, Sweet Dee let out a wail, and, unexpectedly, a faceful of feminine ejaculate into Charlie’s face.   
“Aughh! What the hell Dee?! What is this? Did you sneeze on me?” It was too late. Dee was already asleep somehow, sprawled sloppily across the office desk.   
Charlie heaved a defeated sigh, polished off the remainders of the spray cheese, and left for home.  
He had a game of Nightcrawlers to get to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in so long. I can't believe I prioritized real-life obligations over writing nauseating food-fetish smut. I promise I won't let it happen again. There's nothing I want more than to cast aside all my responsibilities in favor of working on The Worst IASIP Fic in History, but as you surely know by now, art takes time. And since this piece is not only my magnum opus, but also my ONLY opus (my onlypuss, if you will) its gonna take like, a lot of time. I'd love to tell you that it's worth the wait, but c'mon. You guys know me.


	4. Frank and Charlie: Level II Nightcrawlers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie comes home late from the bar, him and Frank play an advanced version of Nightcrawlers. Seems innocent enough, right? WRONG 
> 
> ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, did you miss me? Well, TOO BAD I'm back and this time I'm here for your last shred of dignity. Maybe you've recovered in my absence. Perhaps you cleansed your soul and purged your mind of this text-based trashfic. Maybe you're living a life of purity now. I hope for you sake that stay the righteous path, but we both know that's not gonna happen. I'm Humplestiltskin, weaving golden smut from grimy trash. And just like the story, you owe me your first born.
> 
> Based on your comments, I can tell you're all the most repulsed by Frank. So just for you filthy mongrels, here's more Frank. You're fucking welcome. 
> 
> Also: please listen to this song while you are reading this chapter. I promise you it will enhance the experience: https://youtu.be/-hTNiAs9Fpo

Charlie was still picking bits of encrusted Cheddar Spritz out of his hair when he stumbled into the hallway of his and Frank’s shared apartment. He didn’t own a watch, but judging by how dark it was outside, it was pretty obvious that he was super late. Charlie’s hand hesitantly hovered over the doorknob. He drew it back to bite his nails, which were caked with rat’s blood from a considerably productive afternoon. Taking a deep breath, Charlie opened the door and stepped inside.

Darkness met him. He groped the slimy walls for a switch, unperturbed by the distinct scuttling over roaches over his fingertips. Charlie flicked on the light, only to find himself unwittingly locked in gaze with Frank, who was squat at the the edge of the pullout wearing nothing but socks. He folded his arms slowly before speaking,

“You’re late, Charlie.”

“Oh man, Frank, I’m so sorry!” he started, hurriedly walking over to sit beside him on the bed, “Dude, there was like, twelve zillion rats and then Dee- UGH! Dee! She snared me with her cheesy traps, man!” 

Frank merely raised an eyebrow, his eyes unforgiving behind his thick fisheye lenses. 

“Frank, buddy, let me make it up to you!” the sweaty young man pleaded, “We can go to the bridge, the tiki bar, you name it!” 

Charlie punctuated the offer by resting his palm on Frank’s bare shoulder. The older man warmed to his touch.

“Anything?” Frank asks, leaning up just slightly towards Charlie’s eager face.

Charlie nods with enthusiasm. Frank can feel his panting breath just inches from his lips.  _ Is that… cheddar? _

 

Frank wastes no time coming up with an idea. After just a few nude paces around the room, Frank bounces up with a snap of his sausage fingers. The rest of his stout and ample body ripples in seeming reply. 

“Charlie I got it!” He exclaimed, “We’re gonna play Level II Nightcrawlers!!” 

 

The younger man audibly gasped. 

 

“But we’ve only ever talked about that!” he said, “Are we even ready??” 

“I thought this might come up soon,” Frank continued, pawing through the closet on his knees, “And I may have pilfered some supplies from the Y2K bunker!”

“In the bunker? Really?” Charlie asked incredulously into the dark abyss of Frank’s asshole, which was propped in the air and looking directly into Charlie’s face.

“I have no damn clue what  _ this... _ ” He heaves a gallon jar of clear, viscous lubricant out of the pile of dirty clothes and discarded food waste, “...was doing in there, but there were like, two dozen of ‘em!”

Charlie looked puzzled, “Did they have six foot gummy worms down there, too?”

“Nah.” he replied, shaking his head, “But I’m sure we can figure it out as we go.”

Charlie swallowed, and looked down at Frank, who knelt beside him. 

“Gruesome Twosome?” he finally asked, after a pause.

Frank smiled and rested a meaty hand on Charlie’s knee. 

“Gruesome Twosome.”

Charlie threaded their fingers together and inched backwards, leading Frank onto the rickety bed which creaked beneath him. 

 

The bar janitor starts by letting his olive green army jacket slide off his slender shoulders. He then pulls his t-shirt swiftly over his head, bearing himself for the world to see. Charlie’s hands are shaky, he watches Frank slip into a pair of knee pads before sitting up and unbuttoning his filthy rat-stained jeans. He quickly strips down to just his socks, and buckles on bike helmet. Charlie knocks on the headwear for good luck. 

“Hey, did you remember to get blindfolds?” he pipes up with a grin.

“Of course I did! What kind of an idiot doesn’t bring rags to a game of nightcrawlers?!” Frank growled as he struggled to unscrew the extra-large jar of lubricant with his sweaty palms, “Ah, look at me Charlie! I’m too slippery to open the penis grease! Can ya give me a hand?”

_ It wouldn’t be the first time…  _ Charlie thought to himself, before leaning over and wrenching open the lid for him.

Frank plopped his hand into the well of transparent ooze like Pooh bear into a honey pot. He slathered it across his arms and chest, practically spackling down his ample and wiry body hair in the process. The elder man scooped more out and lathered his legs, belly, and genitals, leaving only his face and head unoiled. Or so it seemed. Charlie was rapt as he watched, his gaze broken only when Frank pushes the jar towards him. 

“Charlie, can you get my back?” 

“Oh sure, no problem, buddy!” He replied, giddy with excitement similar to the precious moments before a ghoul hunt. It was something primal, beastly, like a rat in heat. Charlie slipped his fingers into the goop and rubbed them together. With gentle and knowing hands, the young man caressed the familiar topography of his bedmates back. He kneaded into the skin of his shoulders, knowing every gentle roll of his body and curl of hair. 

“Ooooh! That’s the good stuff. Lower!”

Charlie’s fingers spread a thin sheen of lube down to Frank’s lumbar. 

“That good Frank?”

“No, no, lower…” He practically purred. 

The younger man’s heart leapt. Tentatively, he re-greased his hand and traced a narrow snail trail down the crevasse of Frank’s plump and ample buttocks. This seemed to send a thrilling shiver up his spine as he rasped, 

“Lower…”

“Goddammit Frank! There is no lower! You’re like four feet tall!”

“ALRIGHT! Alright!” Frank snapped, abruptly awoken from his erotic trance, “Just get my ass cheeks so we can start this game already!” 

“FINALLY!” Charlie shouted with an eyeroll. He speedily waxed on, and subsequently waxed off, another fine layer of Kentucky-style jelly onto his bedmates butt. Admiring his handiwork, Charlie gave the left cheek a sharp spank. He beamed as Frank yelped in surprise.

Charlie greased himself up as well. He had a much superior technique, wherein he lobbed a ball of sex paste at the wall and then rutted up against it. Sure, it left a huge oily stain, but at least it didn’t take ten million fucking years to lubricate his back. 

\-------------------

“Take one last good look at me, Charlie!” Frank said as he brandished two filthy dishrags in the air, “‘Cuz the game is the foot!”

And Charlie did just that, staring longingly at the man. His body glistened magnificently in the dim light of their shared apartment. The whole scene felt romantic, or at least, it would be if it weren’t for the deafening ambient noise of the several dozen cats yowling on the fire escape just outside the window. He felt a stirring in his guts, wanting to-- no, needing to--  snuggle up against that small, round man and hold him… and promise him the whole world. But this was not the time for those kinds of thoughts. Nightcrawlers II was no game. Well, it totally was, but, it was a serious game. A serious game with no room for schmoopy crap.  

It was then that Frank closed the gap between the two of them. Reaching up he tied a bedraggled and stained cloth around Charlie’s eyes. Charlie sniffed it. Yep. Just as he thought. This was the egg rag. That meant Frank was using the butt rag.  _ Shit, that was really nice of him! _ Charlie’s chest swelled again at the thoughtfulness of the gesture.  _ Frank sure knows how to treat a guy!  _

And before the two knew it, the light was off and the two of them set to wiggling voraciously across the vast rickety plain of their pullout bed. Charlie couldn’t see anything, but the creaky bed frame amplified their every movement, and he could hear Frank’s grunting pants. Just like the mighty earthworm, the players of Nightcrawlers rely solely on instinct and raw animal magnetism. Charlie surged forward, his shoulder making contact against what felt like Frank’s thigh with a loud smack! Frank slid back in recoil, his slippery body making it tricky to try for an additional blow. Charlie contracted himself and then pushed off with his feet, sliding in the direction of Frank’s breath. But instead, the young janitor collided head-first into one of the pillows! Where had the seasoned bar owner gone?  _ Surely he couldn’t have wriggled away in time… unless… _ Before he could finish his thought, Frank hurtled himself out of the crevice like a majestic sperm whale and belly-flopped onto the unsuspecting Charlie, knocking the wind straight out of him. He’d caught him completely off-guard!  _ Curses! _ Gasping for breath, Charlie thrashed about beneath Frank, who had him pinned beneath his hefty frame. He could hear Frank’s victorious laugh above the slick, slimy sound of flesh against oiled flesh! Charlie squirmed out from underneath the man and retreated to the other end of the bed. He clenched his fists tightly. He wasn’t gonna lose to Frank. Not this time. 

The bed quaked in the darkness. Charlie could feel Frank’s weight shifting opposite him. He could tell the other man was going to launch towards him any minute now. Charlie contorts his body, leaning hard to the left, he writhes out of the way just as Frank barrels towards him, charging towards him on his stomach. Charlie just barely feels a whisper of air tickle his nape. Frank missed, but just barely! Frank roared in frustration and smashed a fist into the mattress. The bed rippled, and when Charlie got his bearings, he found himself tangibly close to the looming edge. That was the No Zone. If a nightcrawler falls in there, well, normally it’d be game over. However, this game was Nightcrawlers II. In this game, the punishment was much more severe. 

Charlie sniffed the air to focus his attention. Frank had eluded him again, but not for long. Charlie inched forward, worming his way to the middle of the shuddering bed, only to be greeting by a firm and heavy blow to the chest! The blow had felt smooth, albeit a little slimy. Charlie realized he knew what hit him. Literally. 

“FOUL!! FOUL! INTERVENTION!” He howled, his blood boiling at the injustice, “IMPROPER USE OF LIMBS!” 

“What?!” Frank barked back, “Nuh-uh! You’re lyin’!”

“Don’t play me Frank, I’d know that foot anywhere!” he continued, “You know the rules, Frank: Legs together, arms at your sides! Do WORMS have LEGS, Frank?! Huh?!”

Frank conceded, “Okay! Ya got me! What’s the penalty?”

Charlie thought about it for a moment, the betrayal still stinging against his pert nipples. 

“Well, if I got my rules right, I’m pretty sure the punishment for a left foot interference is… Live Bait. Oof, that’s a tough one Frank, sorry buddy.”

Frank groaned, “Live bait... Is that the one where ya gotta eat a tablespoon of soil?”

“No, no, no.” Charlie corrected, “That’s Annelid’s Bounty! Live Bait is where we sprinkle fish hooks around the bed and you gotta squiggle around until you find and devour the worm.”

“Uh-huh, and in this case the worm is…”

“In this case, the worm is my penis, Frank.” Charlie said matter-of-factly.

Frank sat up and whistled, filling the blind silence of the apartment. Well, it was sort of silent. Those cats were mewling an awful lot. 

“I really porked this one out, didn’t I Charlie?”

“Yes, Frank, you did. Winners don’t cheat. Now pass me the couch cushion, it’s where I store my fish-hooks.”

“Which one?” Frank asked, accepting his fate.

“Eh, any of them will be fine. They all have hooks.”

 

Still unable to remove his blindfold, Charlie splayed himself out in the top right corner of the combination couch and bed that him and Frank shared nightly. He carefully arranged a minefield of razor sharp fishing lures across the sheets. He then sat back and let the erratic air-flow of the room wash over his cold and naked body. 

“Alright, Frank. Now you just gotta spin around three times and then you can get started.” 

“Got it!” 

And Frank, who was off to the side of the bed, did just that. He only fell down for two of the spins. Charlie beamed with pride. 

Finally, the old bald man made his way to the bed. The mattress sagged as he climbed aboard, but Charlie could tell by the lack of jingling metal, that his hooks remained in place. Frank gulped audibly as he very hesitantly sunk down onto his belly. 

“Oh, worrrrmmmy!” He murmured, “Where are yoooou?” 

He slithered artlessly forward, then stopped abruptly. There was a gut-wrenching sound of tearing fabric. 

“Yikes!” Frank uttered breathlessly, “That feels like a hook.” 

Charlie winced sympathetically. He felt sorry for what the other man was going through, but rules were rules. He and Frank had both agreed. It was a just punishment for an unjust crime. Weak yet undeterred, Frank wormed his way farther into the fray. 

“Oof!” 

Another hook. And after that another, as Frank ambled agonizingly closer to where Charlie was waiting. The air smelled like blood. As far as Charlie could tell, Frank wasn’t moving. No. Frank was scheming. Then Frank thrust himself forward again, bearing down into the mattress and surely ensnaring himself on a handful of fishhooks, judging by the sound of his tormented grunt. Frank suddenly took in a huge gulp of air, and with all his might blew a line of hot breath widespread across the bed. Charlie impulsively snorted as the hairs on his legs tremble in his wind.  _ That tickles! _ Then it dawned on him.  _ Uh-oh _ . Frank wriggled even closer, guided by Charlie’s naive laughter. Frank chuckled. 

“Heeeeere, wormy wormy!” The older man cooed, smacking his lips for dramatic effect, “This fishy is huuuunnnnngrrrrryyyyyy!!” 

Charlie bit down hard on his lip to keep from giggling. Almost as if sensing this, Frank swirled his tongue over the younger man’s kneecap. This was too much! Charlie’s stomach twitched and he loudly exhaled involuntarily. Frank honed in on the sound, dragging the shredded scraps of blanket with him. 

“Ooooh! I think I smell a wormy!” Frank exclaimed, planting a couple of butterfly kisses onto Charlie’s sensitive inner thigh. Oh shit. Charlie squirmed restlessly, he couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. He practically wanted to burst.

“Ahhahahaha! God dammit Frank!” he gasped between fits of uncontrollable snickering, “This is cheating!” 

“There’s nothin’ in the rules against using tickles as a weapon, Charlie! I got you now, worm boy!!”

Charlie’s giggles turned to gasps as Frank licked playfully at the tip of his penis. He hadn’t expected it, the white hot warmth of Frank’s tongue. The way it teased and tasted…  _ Oh god… Please don’t stop… _ Charlie’s dick throbbed and hardened, the pulse echoing throughout his whole body. Frank seemed to take this as his cue to swallow him whole, his slippery lips reaching all the way down his shaft. Frank then slurped it loudly, begging Charlie’s cock to yield its salty treasures. He was a hungry fish, after all. Charlie practically sang with pleasure, moaning high and melodically. He threaded his fingers eagerly through Frank’s curls. He tugged at them, guiding him as he thrust impulsively into Frank’s throat. 

“Mm-mmh!” Frank muttered with his mouth full. He gently pressed his palm into Charlie’s chest, a gesture that seemed to imply ‘let me handle this, i got you’. Charlie relented, and relaxing his body, allowed Frank to bob as he pleased along the length of his cock. 

As Charlie blissfully enjoyed the sensation of heat and moisture and sweet sweet suction, he allowed his mind to wander. He plucked a vagrant fish hook out of Frank’s hair and thought about all those times they had gone crab fishing together under the bridge. They had had so much fun that they got hives! As well as fever, diarrhea, and belly pain. But the crabs were tasty! They cooked them up right there on a trash fire! And Frank had brought candles and fancy forks, too. It was a really special night. He even…  _ Oh! _ He brought these cloth nap-- _ Unhh!  _

Charlie snapped back to reality to find himself panting and out of breath.  _ Hoooly shit, Frank was really good at this!  _ Charlie whimpered, feeling the thick, heavy sensation of an orgasm building up in his loins. 

“Ohh! Frank, careful buddy, I’m about ready to blow my load!”

“No problemo, Charlie, nut away!” He answered, pulling back just in time for Charlie to cum with sharp moan, and artfully splatter Frank’s chest with his spunk. Charlie’s chest heaves. He breathlessly inhales in the intermingling scent of blood and sex. He reaches for out for Frank reflexively, to softly caress the man’s still-greasy chest. Charlie’s fingers trace over a cold metal hook lodged in Frank’s breast and his heart sinks. Nimble as ever, Charlie tenderly removes the barb with a hiss. He rests his forehead against Frank’s, and with his free hand he removes his sock and dabs it gently on his wound, letting it absorb the quickly-congealing slurry of lube and sweat and blood and semen. Charlie kisses the smooth dome of Frank’s scalp.

“Don’t worry, man, we’ll get you all plugged up with trash when we finish the game, okay?”

“Aw, thanks Charlie, you take such good care of me!” 

Charlie rests his palm against Frank’s cheek, feeling his smile. 

“Oh, speaking of the game, when do we start it again?” Frank adds, hastily.

Charlie narrows his eyes beneath the blindfold and steels himself. 

“Now.” he said, before ruthlessly shoving Frank off of the bed, sending him hurtling down into the No Zone. 

“Game over, bitch!” Charlie cackles like a cartoon villain.

Frank gazes back up at him, his eyes filled with hurt, “Ahhh! Charlie I trusted you! That was a dirty trick!” 

“Uh said the loser to the reigning undefeated champion of nightcrawlers ten years running!” Charlie hooted and hollered and whipped off his blindfold, casting it down to the floor next to Frank. 

“Ooh! Oh! Wait! Charlie! How am I supposed to be the dirt if we don’t have the six foot gummy worms?!” Frank asked, referring to the rule of Level II Nightcrawlers in which the loser has to become the dirt, and allow a worm to wriggle around inside him. It was hard to see in the dim light, but Frank almost looked… disappointed? 

“Hey, man, don’t worry about it, we can improvise, remember?” Charlie said, stepping down from the bed to consolingly pat Frank on the shoulder. 

“How are we gonna improvise a six foot long gummy worm?” Frank scowled. 

Charlie held up his arm and wiggled his fingers, a devious grin crawled onto his face. Frank looked perplexed. 

“What?” He paused for a full thirty seconds, “OH! Ohhhh…. I like your style, Charlie!”

And then, when Frank is good and ready, Charlie plunges his lubricated, wedged fingers into the man’s butthole. To Charlie’s amazement, Frank’s gaping anus takes his knuckles like a champ. After that, the rest of Charlie’s forearm gets pulled in smoothly.  _ Incredible! _ Frank releases a low, guttural moan.Charlie had never heard a sound more satisfying.

“So what do I do now, do I just--”

“No no, just hold it there, Charlie. Just like that, fill me up! Atta boy!”

Frank pawed at himself furiously from his crouched position. Charlie barely had to do anything besides sit there and listen to the lofty cacophony of meows, grunts, and slapping dick. After a few minutes, Charlie found himself tracing little designs into the top layer of grease on Frank’s back with his free hand. He thought about how much he loved the musky and vaguely porcine smell that Frank always had on him. How some nights he couldn’t sleep without the man next to him hogging up all the blankets. Charlie thought about how beautifully they existed together, their flaws feeding into each other in a comfortable symbiosis that couldn’t be broken, and he felt a warmth like no other. As sweat streamed down Frank’s asscrack and dribbled shakily onto Charlie’s arm, he leaned down to give each buttock a tender smooch. It felt good to be needed, and to need someone this much.

Frank splooged with a shudder, and Charlie carefully extracted his arm from the older man’s bowels. Exhausted, the pair of them collapsed together on the bed, all out of breath. 

“Holy shit, Charlie, we gotta play that again sometime!” Frank whispered.

“You really like losing, don’t you?”

“Mmm-hm.” 

“So Charlie, you wanna wash your arm off?” 

“Don’t worry, Frankie-boy, germs are nocturnal. I’ll take care of it in the morning.” Charlie replied knowingly, letting his eyes flutter shut as he snuggled up next to Frank. 

The room was quiet for a while. Not a creature was stirring, except for fifty or so cats clawing hungrily at the window panes. A voice broke the silence.

“Hey, Frank?” 

There was a pause.

“Yeah, Charlie?”

“Gruesome twosome?”

Frank entwined his kielbasa-esque fingers with Charlie’s and smiled.

“Gruesome twosome.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Dee and Frank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dee and Frank get into some questionable BDSM shit. Heavy warnings for incest/stepcest, fat shaming/body shaming, gendered slurs, and generally repulsive content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, fuckers, if you somehow weathered the last 4 chapters, something tells me that this will be the one that breaks you.   
> Also it's worth noting that the tool Dee uses is called a Hog Catcher, and I recommend googling it so that this fic makes a little more sense. Don't ask me where she got it, it's PWP, because even I couldn't explain my way out of this filth.

1:43am  
On a Saturday

  
Frank is hog-tied, greased up, naked, and gagged with an apple. Dee towers over him in shiny black leather. She digs a heel into his pudgy ribs, squeezed tightly by the ropes.   
“Say it.” she says, for just about the millionth time that evening.   
Behind the apple, Frank grunts in protest.   
“No?” Dee digs in deeper, twisting as she shoves his fettered figure off of the bed. His body smacks against the hardwood and Frank furiously spits out the apple.   
“You’re a whoor, Deandra!” He sputters, gasping desperately for the air she knocked out of him, “An ungrateful, dirty whore just like your bitch mother!”   
The words don’t sting, they don’t even itch. Her mother was the cruelest skank she could think of, emphasis on ‘was’. She was literally too cruel for this world.   
“Barbara was too hopped up on painkillers and pool boys to give you what you really deserved,” Dee snipes, producing a long metal rod from her dresser. One end bent out in a flat hook and on the other was a thin, looped wire. Quick as a whip, she thrusts the hooked end forward and snags the cord that bound his wrists and ankles together, pulling him across the floor towards her. Frank’s thick and oily coat of tanning oil allows him to slide with ease, leaving a slimy trail behind him. Dee then sharply jabs the hook into his ample potbelly.   
“Now get up, swine!” She barks over his pained whimper.   
Frank hobbles to his knees, struggling to keep balance with his slippery body. And then, rasping and wheezing, Frank beaches himself upon the california king like a diseased whale. Constrained by his bindings, his paunch undulates with exhaustion, but Dee isn’t done yet. Dee purses her lips into a thin crocodilian smile, another inherited feature, and leans down to pick up the fallen fruit. With slow, agonizing precision, she takes a bite, chews, swallows. Following that, she gags with force, loudly regurgitating her nasal mucous into her mouth. Finally, Dee spits the vile sludge right back onto the apple and stuffs it once again between her father’s open teeth. Frank heaves with disgust and thrashes weakly on the mattress, straining against her inflexible knots. He looks up at Deandra, pleading with wet, bulging eyes for mercy. She stares down at him, her icy glare practically glistening with malicious delight. The old man looked weak, but throbbing porcine erection told a much different story.   
Newly excited, Dee rolls Frank onto his stomach, beaming like a cat toying with it’s fresh kill. She grabs him by his few remaining curls and giddily whispers into his sweaty ears, “Who’s the bitch now, Frank? You fat pig! You greasy fat pig!”   
Dee reaches for her hog-catching pole again.  
“Why don’t you oink for me you dirty pig? Huh?” Dee’s voice rose sharply as she felt herself moistening in her taut leather panties. Frank shook his head intently.   
“Do it, piggy!” She screeches, slapping the back of his bald head so hard it knocks the apple right out of his mouth. Frank yelps and begins snorting softly between sobs. Dee stands, tightening her grip on the rod.   
“Louder!” She was shouting now, as she smacks the hook down hard against his plump rump. Frank howls in agony and obeyed, forcing deep, throaty snorts reminiscent of a monster truck. “Much better.” Dee squeezes his fresh ass-welt, now rosy and raw, making sure to dig her nails in real hard. Panting, Frank responds by thrusting weakly, attempting despite his bindings to grind his engorged penis into the covers.   
“Oh you like that you sick fuck?” Dee snaps to attention, sliding over and scraping her long nails along his shimmering scalp, “I’ll make you squeal for more, Frank. I’ll make you squeal like the fat, stinky pig you are!”   
Frank mutters, just above a whisper, “Try me, you flat-chested skank!” And Dee just smirks, loosening the rod’s wire end and lowering it gingerly over her father’s head.   
Dee’s voice was uncharacteristically calm, “Now squeal.”  
“You whore! I’ll nev--” Frank is cut off when Dee yanked back on the pole, constricting the cold metal wire around his meaty neck.   
“GOD DAMMIT, FRANK! I TOLD YOU TO SQUEAL!” She screams, roughly groping his testicles with her free hand.   
Frank desperately convulses, writhing for air in unrelenting pain. His flailing serves only to rut his swollen cock harder against the sheets. His body, muted, squirms for release and Dee only tightens the wire, as well as the grip on his nutsack. Then, as his head swirls with dizziness and his penis feels ripe to burst with pleasure, Frank musters from deep within his pork belly one tormented, shrill squeal loud enough to wake the whole building. Dee drops the rod in awe, and Frank institutionally rears around, jerks his head back and squeals again, even louder this time, in a body-quaking orgasm and spurts a massive surge of cum all over her body.   
Eyebrows raised, Dee watches her father fall back dramatically onto the bed, completely spent. His jowls were still practically purple from the asphyxiation, yet they almost instantly produced noisy snores. Dee looks down at herself and grimaces, retrieving Frank’s wallet and pilfering more than enough to cover rent for this month, as well as a little extra for new bedsheets, ideally not smeared in tanning oil and semen, before kicking off her heels and flopping onto her couch to sleep.


	6. Frank and Mac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Gang Goes to the Jersey Shore, Frank and Mac get some alone time at sea. This chapter contains feederism, food fetishism, ham spanking, and irresponsible consumption of alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during the events of The Gang Goes to the Jersey Shore. Not to be self-deprecating, but I really hammed it up this chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy ;3

Frank and Mac floated languidly in the rubber raft. The sky was a blinding cerulean, and Mac stared up at it with his eyes as heavily glazed as the massive pork hock betwixt them. The sun had ripened their skin like a late summer peach. His arms felt heavy, rum heavy, and when the waves swayed the tiny boat he could feel their legs pressing gently together. Even in a drunken stupor, Mac could feel himself blush behind his sunburn.

“Frank!” He called, unwilling to lift his head to look at the other man, “Pass me the rum ham.”

“Get it yourself!” Frank growled, shaken from the comfort of his catnap.

“But it’s all the way on your side!” Mac whined, feigning helplessness.

“What are you talking about!?” Frank sputtered, sitting up to survey the short distance between them, “It’s exactly in the middle!” 

Mac scowled, “Yeah, dude, but it’s on your lap!” 

“Why the hell do I gotta get it?!” 

“God dammit, Frank!” Mac said, peeling himself up from where his sweat had adhered him to the rubber. 

It was then that he reached out for the pineapple-spangled leg of ham just as Frank did the same. Their fingers touched and slid together almost magnetically. Mac found his thumb softly stroking the dark curly hair of Frank’s knuckles in a bizarre lack of inhibition. Stranger still, he watched in dizzy anticipation as Frank picked off a chunk of pork with his free hand and brought it up to the younger man’s mouth. 

With renewed hunger, Mac engulfed Frank’s slice of meat with his lips, then sucking the sweet, sticky, rum residue off of his fingers. Not yet sated, Mac tongued the creases in the older man’s palm, licking desperately for any last scrap of the sweet liquor. 

Realizing what he was doing, he pulled back and looked at Frank. Frank had that look on his face, the same one he got when he was trying to reach the beer on the top shelf. Maybe it was just the booze, or maybe it was that bullshit Dennis was yapping about. What was it? The magic of the Jersey Shore in summertime? Whatever it was, Mac couldn’t help but notice the way Frank shimmered in the hot summer sun. The hair that grew in a thick, black sea on his chest gave him a wild, bestial magnetism. Sure, he was fat and old and his physique was nothing compared to Mac’s super stud fitness idols, but he couldn’t deny that the man looked like he wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

Waking him from his haze of rationalization, Mac felt a meaty hand press against his cheek, and before he knew it, Frank was pulling him in for a kiss. Letting go of his restraint, Mac sank into the kiss. He snaked a hand through the other man’s windswept curls as Frank slipped a partially-chewed sliver of ham into his mouth. Despite its mastication, he could still taste the savory rum-soaked flavor. The two of them pushed the chunk of meat back and forth with their tongues until all they could taste was each other. Heavy hands groped at skin and flesh, palms leaving prints where the sunburns were. Mac was rock hard, too drunk on meat and rum to think about the implications of sucking face with his best friend’s dad. At this rate, he was on a fast track to fuck everyone in the Reynolds family. 

Five shared pieces of ham later, Frank pulled away and a gossamer string of spit spread between their sun-chapped lips. He was breathing heavily and fumbling with the pockets of his trunks. 

“Where’s the knife?” He asked breathlessly.

“What do you need the knife for?” Mac said, processing the request in the drunk fog of his mind. 

“You’ll see!” he replied giddily, drawing the blade from where it was buried underneath him. 

Frank hoisted the slimy ham hock up to his chest. Gracelessly, he jabbed the knife into the one end. He then yanked it out and repeated the cut in rapid succession until he had made a loose pit about two inches in diameter. 

“Frank what the hell?! You’re mangling the rum ham!” Mac hollered, perplexed.

“Mac…” He slurred, “Mac. All this touching and smooching and eating has got me so horny!” 

Mac knitted his eyebrows in annoyance at the way Frank dragged out the “o” until it sounded like “hooorny”. 

“Don’t give me that look!” Frank snapped defensively, “It’s making me horny, it’s making you horny! We’re both sporting a chubby right now!”

“Yeah, so?” Mac was still confused.

“So, it’s this damn ham! It’s too sexy!” Frank paused to catch his breath, “Look, obviously we’re both not gay-”

“Obviously!” Mac interrupted, a bit too quickly.

“So I figured, why not pork the pork?” Frank beamed as he said this, “I cut a hole for my dong, you cut a hole for your dong, and we both fuck the rum ham and neither of us are gay!”

Mac’s eyes bulged.

“Goddamn it, Frank, fucking the food??” Mac’s cock also bulged, “That is genius! Gimme that knife!”

And with that, Mac carved himself an completely-average-and-adequate hole in the opposite end of the ham. 

Mac shimmied his swim trunks down around his ankles, exposing his pale ass to the afternoon sunlight. Dick out, Mac reached out for the ham once again, but an already nude Frank stopped him. 

“Wait!” he said, “Let me try something first!” 

Frank then plucked off one of the pineapple rings that had been fastened to the ham with a toothpick. Mac watched in awe as the man put his penis through the hole so that the slice was hanging loosely around his erection. Frank picked up another ring and held it aloft to Mac.

“Here, you try!” 

Warily, Mac slid the disk of fruit down the shaft of his wiener. The slightly-acidic juice stung his bare penis tip, and he inhaled sharply before nestling the pineapple ring over his bed of pubes. 

Frank rested a meaty hand on Mac’s shoulder. 

“Are you ready?”

“Hell yeah!” Mac replied with a quick nod. 

Cock in hand, he guided himself into the pitt of pig flesh he had dug. He pulled himself tight into the meat, which was moist and drenched from days of marination. Mac gasped as the juices dribbled down his ballsack and dripped loudly onto the raft beneath him. His cocked swelled with pleasure and made the ham even tighter and wetter. 

“Oh, god…” Mac struggled to finish his thought as his head swam with ecstasy and rum, “You gotta get in here, man, it’s so good.”

“Hold on! Don’t blow your load before I even get my dick in it!”

“I’m really trying, Frank, but it feels so hot I can’t wait forever.”

“Alright, alright! I’m coming!” 

Mac firmly held the ham hock up so Frank, too, could slip inside it’s sultry pinkness. Their round bellies draped over the slab of meat so they were nearly touching.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed once he was balls deep, “That’s better than pussy! What the hell have we been poundin’ broads for?”

“Yeah, who needs women?” Mac chimed in with a smile. 

“So are we doing this in unison, or…?” Frank asked uneasily, as he steadied himself against Mac.

“I mean, how else would we do it, right? It’d get messy…” Mac trailed off.

“Makes sense.” Frank agreed.

“On three?” 

“Sure!”

The two men locked eyes as they counted down, and by the time they reached one their lips were once again pressed together in passion. They began rhythmically thrusting into the ham, a slurry of booze and ham juice squirting out with every pump. Mac squeezed the ham as he fucked it raw, and he couldn’t help but moan at what a musculed and streamlined physique the boar it came from surely must’ve had. The moan was swallowed my Frank, who was practically wheezing as their mouths meshed sloppily together. Mac started thrusting faster into the slimy ham and Frank strained matched his pace. The raft, which was rocking wildly with all the movement did nothing to quell the lust between the two men and their ham.

“Mr. Reynolds…” Mac breathed as he licked the sweet liquor off of Frank’s lips and still thrusting away, “Mr. Reynolds please!”

And Frank grasped Mac by the nape and kissed him deeply, plunging his hungry tongue deep into the younger man’s mouth. Mac’s body was on fire and his heart was alive. He stiffened his muscles for one more explosive thrust into the glazed meat where his dick burst with a glaze of it’s own. Mac dug his nails into the ham as he came with an unintelligible shout. He felt lightheaded and let himself flop over onto his back again, with his dick leaving a sticky trail of wet semen mixed with booze. 

While Mac was catching his breath, Frank grunted as he bobbed the rum ham up and down on his cock. Then he started spanking the ham, and Mac couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“Yeah you ride that you dirty bitch!” Frank yelled, his voice rising in pitch as he grew closer to orgasm, “You sexy minx! Come to daddy, that’s right, little Rummy! Ride it good!” 

Mac was aghast, but much too swamped in the post-coital fog to do anything but look on in horrified silence. 

“AHH! YES! YOU BITCH! YOU RUM-STUFFED BITCH!!” Frank ripped the ham off his cock as he came, scattering his jizz all over the boat. 

And then, to Mac’s shock, Frank sank his teeth into Mac’s ham hole, tearing into it like some kind of animal. He gobbled all of Mac’s residual cum with a slobbering tongue, before upturning the ham to pour the fluids into his open mouth. He stared at Frank and Frank turned to face him. Mac’s personal juices were still running down the old man’s chin. There was a long silence between them.

“Do you, uh… want some?”

“Yeah, okay. Sure.” Mac replied.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and by the time I'm through with it, you'll wish it was my last. I was inspired by the cruel exclusion of Frank Reynolds from the majority of It's Always Sunny multi-shipping fics. Why should the young and sexy have all the fun? Is there no room in the world of smut for a simple troll man? I think there is.  
> My one and only goal here is to create the most heinous, reviled, and infamous fic this fandom has to offer. If that means I sacrifice a large portion of my eternal soul in the process, so be it.


End file.
